their father's shop
alongside Mr Cribb, who was only a butcher's
boy then. When old man Braithwaite died of a
heart attack all of a sudden like, Mr Cribb took
over the business but he married Miss Hilda
Braithwaite and not her sister Joan. They lived
above the shop and Miss Joan went off sudden-like
to stay with her aunt in Bridlington – to mend
her broken heart, they say. Anyhow, the master
made enough money to buy the shop off Miss
Joan, and when she returned from Bridlington a
few years later, the master built this fine house
and she's been living here ever since.'
The sound of footsteps outside the door made
Mabel suddenly alert and she leapt to her feet.
'I'd best get on or I'll be for it.' She laid Beth back
in her cradle before going to the door and
peeping out. She turned to Eloise with a worried
frown. 'I won't be a moment, miss. There's
summat I must see to before I finish off in here.'
She slipped out of the room, closing the door
behind her.
Eloise waited for a moment, half expecting
Joan to erupt into her room and scold her for
keeping a servant from her duties, but the sound
of footsteps grew fainter and it seemed that
Mabel had been called away. Eloise thought no
more about it, or of Joan Braithwaite's personal
tragedy that had blighted her life. She could feel
little sympathy for a woman who had shown her
nothing but hostility. Joss jiggled about on her
knee, reminding her to play with him, and she
obliged, but her mind was racing as she tried
desperately to think of a way to escape from
Cribb's Hall. She had no relations to whom she
could appeal for shelter; both Mama and Papa
had been only children and their cousins had
either emigrated or were long dead. She had no
money of her own, and no qualifications other
than that of a reasonably good education.
Gradually, lulled by the rocking movement
and the warmth from the fire, Joss fell asleep in
her arms. Eloise rose slowly to her feet and laid
him in the middle of the bed, with pillows on
either side to prevent him from rolling off and
hurting himself. There was an old-fashioned
escritoire placed beneath the window, and on
further investigation she discovered a bottle of
ink and a quill pen. She unpacked her leather
writing case, which had been a twenty-first
birthday present from Ronnie, and she settled
down to compose a letter to her mother. The
simple act of putting pen to paper brought
Mama suddenly so close that Eloise felt her
presence almost as if she were in the room. She
wrote slowly and chose her words carefully. The
harsh truth would only upset her mother and
Eloise made light of her trials, omitting entirely
the harsh way in which she had been received by
her mother-in-law and Joan. She was so intent on
her task that she did not hear the door open
behind her.
'So, I take it you are writing to your sainted
mother.'
The sound of Hilda's strident tones made
Eloise jump and a large blot of ink splattered
across the sheet of paper. She put the pen down,
controlling the urge to snap back at her mother-in-law. Taking a deep breath she rose to her feet,
facing Hilda with a defiant lift of her chin. 'Yes,
ma'am. I was writing to inform her that we had
arrived safely.'
'And to complain of your treatment too, no
doubt.'
'No, ma'am. I would not want to distress my
parents by telling them that I was an unwelcome
guest in your home.'
Hilda inclined her head slightly. 'You have
that much backbone at least.' She went to sit in
the chair by the fire. 'I admit that I was not best
pleased when your father wrote informing us
that you and the children would be coming to
stay. He might be a man of God, but he assumed
a great deal when he foisted you on us in our
state of grief.'
'I realise that it is very hard for you, Mother-in-law,
as it is for me. I believe that we both loved
Ronnie equally, and suffer a great deal from his
loss.'
Hilda's tight-lipped expression did not falter.
Her eyes were like cold steel as she regarded
Eloise with an unflinching stare.
alongside Mr Cribb, who was only a butcher's
boy then. When old man Braithwaite died of a
heart attack all of a sudden like, Mr Cribb took
over the business but he married Miss Hilda
Braithwaite and not her sister Joan. They lived
above the shop and Miss Joan went off sudden-like
to stay with her aunt in Bridlington – to mend
her broken heart, they say. Anyhow, the master
made enough money to buy the shop off Miss
Joan, and when she returned from Bridlington a
few years later, the master built this fine house
and she's been living here ever since.'
The sound of footsteps outside the door made
Mabel suddenly alert and she leapt to her feet.
'I'd best get on or I'll be for it.' She laid Beth back
in her cradle before going to the door and
peeping out. She turned to Eloise with a worried
frown. 'I won't be a moment, miss. There's
summat I must see to before I finish off in here.'
She slipped out of the room, closing the door
behind her.
Eloise waited for a moment, half expecting
Joan to erupt into her room and scold her for
keeping a servant from her duties, but the sound
of footsteps grew fainter and it seemed that
Mabel had been called away. Eloise thought no
more about it, or of Joan Braithwaite's personal
tragedy that had blighted her life. She could feel
little sympathy for a woman who had shown her
nothing but hostility. Joss jiggled about on her
knee, reminding her to play with him, and she
obliged, but her mind was racing as she tried
desperately to think of a way to escape from
Cribb's Hall. She had no relations to whom she
could appeal for shelter; both Mama and Papa
had been only children and their cousins had
either emigrated or were long dead. She had no
money of her own, and no qualifications other
than that of a reasonably good education.
Gradually, lulled by the rocking movement
and the warmth from the fire, Joss fell asleep in
her arms. Eloise rose slowly to her feet and laid
him in the middle of the bed, with pillows on
either side to prevent him from rolling off and
hurting himself. There was an old-fashioned
escritoire placed beneath the window, and on
further investigation she discovered a bottle of
ink and a quill pen. She unpacked her leather
writing case, which had been a twenty-first
birthday present from Ronnie, and she settled
down to compose a letter to her mother. The
simple act of putting pen to paper brought
Mama suddenly so close that Eloise felt her
presence almost as if she were in the room. She
wrote slowly and chose her words carefully. The
harsh truth would only upset her mother and
Eloise made light of her trials, omitting entirely
the harsh way in which she had been received by
her mother-in-law and Joan. She was so intent on
her task that she did not hear the door open
behind her.
'So, I take it you are writing to your sainted
mother.'
The sound of Hilda's strident tones made
Eloise jump and a large blot of ink splattered
across the sheet of paper. She put the pen down,
controlling the urge to snap back at her mother-in-law. Taking a deep breath she rose to her feet,
facing Hilda with a defiant lift of her chin. 'Yes,
ma'am. I was writing to inform her that we had
arrived safely.'
'And to complain of your treatment too, no
doubt.'
'No, ma'am. I would not want to distress my
parents by telling them that I was an unwelcome
guest in your home.'
Hilda inclined her head slightly. 'You have
that much backbone at least.' She went to sit in
the chair by the fire. 'I admit that I was not best
pleased when your father wrote informing us
that you and the children would be coming to
stay. He might be a man of God, but he assumed
a great deal when he foisted you on us in our
state of grief.'
'I realise that it is very hard for you, Mother-in-law,
as it is for me. I believe that we both loved
Ronnie equally, and suffer a great deal from his
loss.'
Hilda's tight-lipped expression did not falter.
Her eyes were like cold steel as she regarded
Eloise with an unflinching stare.
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